


The twist of a blade

by Webtrinsic



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Tony Stark, Dad!Tony, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt Peter Parker, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Son!Peter, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-09 21:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12897543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Webtrinsic/pseuds/Webtrinsic
Summary: He should have been home by now.





	The twist of a blade

It'd never taken this long for Peter to come home. And he would have been home too if it weren't for the knife lodged in his side and the tape and ropes binding him.

"I wonder what Stark will think when his little boy is found dead in an alley, alone."

He whimpered through the tape, the fourteen-year-old's body writhing in pain. Blood rising from his throat and loosening the tape. But with it wrapped all the way around his head it didn't budge.

Crying, he forced the tears from his eyes. Rope chaffing his wrist and ankles enough to make them bleed while his pale skin turned purple from bruising.

He regretted even the smallest of movements, the blade resembled a drill. Long and twisted, each edge sharp and unyielding.

It'd been twisted into his side, pulling and tearing both skin and organ with it. With it stuck in his side, it kept him from bleeding out right away the snow helping too.

His skin held a sheen of sweat, and his hair stuck to his forehead. Hiccuped sobs escaping him as his attacker fled, boots crunching on the icy frost below.

The snow seeped through his jeans, burning his legs. The icy wall behind him not helping his back. Blurry vision nearly mistaking the newly falling snow for angels coming to take him away.

The buzzing of his phone was the choir of angels or whatever it was above that would take him away. He was sure he'd know what it was when he was gone.

 

When Peter didn't answer, Tony pushed the call through anyway.

"Peter?" His voice bordered on sternness and worry. His eyes widened at his father's voice, no matter how much his eyelids tried to close.

He tried to scream, the muffled noise turning his father's heart to stone. Anger and worry pulsing through his veins, more so than his own blood.

FRIDAY had located him in less than a minute, and his suit pressed itself again his bones and flew him all the way until he was crouched beside his child.

He could barely lift his head, and FRIDAY had an ambulance on its way. Approximately five minutes out. The billionaire tentatively held his sons face in his hand, peeling the tape away. Absolutely startled at the rush of blood that fell from his son's lips, lightly gurgling in an attempt not to choke. He hadn't even noticed the knife lodged into the child's side until his elbow knocked into it while peeling the remaining tape away.

Peter screamed hard enough to lead the ambulance to them without the help of their GPS.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry baby," he apologized, watching as his sons chest heaved in agony. The sirens growing closer until Peter was being adjusted and they were both in the back seat of the ambulance.

After a four hour surgery, a transfer home, and a visit from Helen Chow to fix the scarring as she'd done with Clint during their fight with Ultron. Peter was in the clear. Asleep in his own room, IV's in his arms and his head resting against his father's chest.

Tony's fingers trailed along his sons wrapped wrist, seething at the fact they'd been bound and bruised. His son had been stabbed, left alone to die. Luckily the man had been dumb enough to leave his prints all over the knife.

The search was ongoing, and Tony would make him pay when he was found. For every hitch in his son's breath as he slept would be a kick, every whimper a punch, and every tear a broken bone.

Not to mention for every hour he was under they'd be screaming, and for each liter of blood he'd lost would be another 10 years in jail. Every counted stitch of skin would be a tooth knocked out. That was a promise he intended to keep. No matter what.

In the past three hours, he'd cried twice. Around 27 tears had fallen, and that means 27 bones would be broken. He didn't particularly care which ones.

17 stitches, he might as well just knock out all his teeth. He'd lost count of how many times a whimper fell from his son's lips, his fist would probably break under the pressure.

Peter's eyes opened miserably, causing him to bury closer to the reassuring sound of his father's heart.

"Dad?" He asked confused, looking up into the hard eyes of his father. Even when confused he saw his fathers concern and rage. Barely hidden behind his guilt.

"Yeah, baby?"

"What happened to me?" He asked, voice hoarse.

"You were stabbed, luckily the snow helped clot the bleeding," He admitted softly, watching his sons eyes flutter shut when he leaned in to kiss his forehead.

"Go back to bed sweetheart," Tony instructed, already feeling his son's body go limp. While Peter slept the man had been found and Tony begrudgingly parted from his son.

He had work to do.


End file.
